Perspectives
by Summer Rising
Summary: A series of one-shots of missing moments in the Harry Potter universe. Ratings may change chapter to chapter. Generally true to canon. Chapter 1: The death of Sirius Black hit Molly Weasley in ways she hadn't expected.


Molly Weasley felt like a failure once again.

The last time she had felt this way was when Alastor Moody came to her door in July of 1981. She'd been pregnant with Ginny – very pregnant. Arthur had been at work – everyone at the Ministry worked long hours at that time. Holding Ron in one arm and her wand in the other hand, she'd cautiously opened the door and demanded Moody identify himself, as her brothers had trained her. She half-hoped it was an imposter – dueling a Death Eater would have been easier than hearing the news she knew he must carry.

But it had been Moody, and he had come with the worst possible news. Fabian and Gideon, her brave little brothers, were dead. Murdered as they fought side-by-side against Death Eaters.

She'd felt like a failure then. She should have been there – she should have been there for those beautiful boys, those brave young men, when they needed her most. Instead she'd been home, doing nothing more than running her house and raising her children, as though there wasn't a war right outside her door. Her brothers had deserved better of her.

The funerals had been excruciating. Everyone had offered such kind words, told heartfelt anecdotes about the boys, praised their courage and the contributions they made to the order.

But the thing about being an older sister is that no matter how old your brothers get, you still recall things from when they were just little boys. Everyone wanted to tell her how brave her brothers had been, but she had been the one they ran to when they were not brave.

Like when Fabian was 6 and terrified of the neighbor's massive dog, so he'd hidden behind her skirts, though she was only a few years older and barely taller than him at the time. Or when Gideon had a nightmare his first night at Hogwarts and waited at the bottom of the stairs to the girls' dormitories until one late-returning fourth-year noticed him and came to find her.

Of course her brothers had been brave. Molly knew this. But she was supposed to be there when they were not feeling brave. And though they had fought like heroes, they must have been scared. And their big sister should have been there for them. But she had failed them.

And today she felt like a failure once again. When Dumbledore had come to her and Arthur about the reconciliation of the Order of the Phoenix, she thought joining this time would make up for her failure with her brothers – she thought standing up against evil this time might somehow make up for her previous failures.

Instead, two of her children had found themselves in the center of a war, fighting Dark wizards more than twice their age alongside a rag-tag team of friends determined to fight back against evil despite being far too young to have that weight on their shoulders.

This time, she had been ready to fight. The moment she and Arthur received the news that their children and their friends had gone missing, she'd grabbed her wand and prepared to Apparate. but as quickly as they received the news another Patronus came informing them it was already over, that the children were all alive, and that she and Arthur should report to the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts to see their two youngest children.

What the Patronus had not told them, what they did not learn until they arrived at Hogwarts and spoke to a devastated Remus Lupin and saw a distraught Harry Potter, was that another brave young man had died for the cause.

Molly had not known Sirius Black as a boy – he started at Hogwarts around the same time she had her first son. She vaguely remembered her brothers telling tales of young Sirius Black and James Potter – two maverick teens hell-bent on saving the world. Her brothers had been fond of the pair of troublemakers. Molly had grieved for James and Lily Potter when she learned of their deaths, but not because she knew them – she mourned them for her brothers, who could not, and mourned them for what they represented. – a family torn apart by war. And she had been horrified by stories of Sirius Black, the man that was supposed to be their best friend, the man that betrayed them.

She judged Sirius for that, even when people she trusted told her it had been a lie. The first time she saw him transform from a big shaggy dog into the man whose inmate photo had been splayed across the Daily Prophet, she'd screamed. And despite Dumbledore's repeated assurances, she couldn't help but treat Sirius with suspicion.

Then, the man had opened his home to the Order, had given them a safe place to be while they continued to fight for their common cause. And he'd given her free reign to clean up and cook in his kitchen and settle her children in his family's ancestral home, in their very beds.

And slowly she began treating him differently – but still without the respect he'd deserved. Sirius Black, despite being in his 30s, often acted like a reckless teenager. She, a woman who'd raised five children into adulthood and had two more nearly there, should have had more patience for the man. She should have realized the poor man had been wrongfully imprisoned when he was just 21 years old, and never had the chance to grow into the years his body possessed. She should have treated him more gently,; she should have offered him guidance instead of scorn when he tried so hard to be a parent-figure to Harry.

But she loved Harry as her own, and she did not want someone else to be a stand-in parent. She did not appreciate that Sirius had more authority in the raising of Harry than she did – a man with no experience with children, jumping in and trying to parent a teenage boy? Surely she was more qualified.

She'd been cruel to Sirius – she'd treated him as incompetent rather than inexperienced – she'd questioned his decisions in front of the whole Order and undermined his attempts to be the father figure Harry so desperately needed and Sirius so desperately wanted to be.

She'd had the good grace to be ashamed of it – the more she saw Sirius and Harry together the more obvious it became that Sirius loved the boy like he was his own. And at Christmas, when her husband had nearly died and she was terrified she would crumble and fall apart in front of the children that needed her, Sirius had opened his home and lightened the mood, providing a wonderful holiday they so desperately needed.

And of course, when Harry had needed him most, Sirius had not hesitated to rush into danger. It was Sirius Black who had been there to distract the Death Eaters from her children, to ensure they made it out alive.

Molly Weasley had failed to protect her children. Molly Weasley had failed to protect Harry Potter. And Molly Weasley had yet again failed to protect a brave young man who'd deserved better of her.

It felt wrong, in a way, that her grief for Sirius Black seemed to rival the grief she felt for her brothers. She had scarcely known Sirius Black, unlike Remus Lupin, who'd know the man since they were boys of just 11. She couldn't say she'd loved Sirius Black – she was just getting to know him.

But Sirius Black had loved Harry Potter, and Molly Weasley loved Harry Potter, and wasn't love the crux of it all anyway?

She signed as she took one last look at 12 Grimmauld Place. The Order was temporarily vacating the premises – with Sirius Black dead, it was unclear if the place was still safe. She wasn't sure she'd want to return again anyway – the house had been uninviting at best with Sirius in it, and now it felt downright haunted.

Remus Lupin came down the stairs with the last of his belongings, looking ten years older than he had the day before. Molly wanted to say something, to comfort the man in some way, but she knew first-hand that condolences, no matter how well-meaning, just left an empty feeling in the pit of your stomach. So instead of speaking of Sirius, she'd simply offered him a room at The Burrow for the next few days, until he could determine his next move. He'd taken it – Molly suspected he had nowhere else to go – or at least, no one else he was willing to ask. Nymphadora Tonks, another brave young soul who had run headlong into battle to protect Molly's children, was in St. Mungo's courtesy of her aunt, and while the young woman was expected to recover, the Healers had warned she may need an extended stay.

Molly sighed. The children had gotten off rather well, considering. Ginny had suffered a broken ankle, which Madam Pomfrey repaired with a simple flick of her wand before Molly and Arthur had even arrived in the hospital wing. Ronald would have some scarring on his arms from the bizarre brains he'd encountered in the Department of Mysteries, and he had some minor spell damage, but the matron had assured Molly he would need only a few days recovery time.

Poor, sweet Hermione, that lovely girl who Molly had so enjoyed having visit The Burrow over the years, would require a longer stay. The Dark curse that had been used on her should have killed her, but because it was cast silently it lacked the power to do the strong young woman in.

Dear Luna, who grew up just a few hills over from the Weasleys, and Neville Longbottom, who Molly had known only in name until she met him in the hospital wing, had miraculously escaped serious injury, but it was little consolation to Molly.

Children should not have to fight in wars. Young men who were terribly excited to be uncles, even if it was the seventh time over, should not have to fight to the death against Dark wizards. Young couples with a baby just over a year old should not be murdered in their homes, and 21-year-old men should not be accused of killing their best friends and placed in Azkaban for 12 years without a trial, only to escape and be killed two years later by the very people the world believed him to have murdered for.

And parents should be the ones to protect their children. Perhaps Sirius Black had a better understanding of fatherhood than Molly had given him credit for.

"Molly? Are you all right?" The gentle voice of Remus Lupin pulled her from her thoughts.

"Oh yes, just…thinking," she said lamely. He raised an eyebrow.

"Knut for your thoughts?"

"Oh dear, they're not worth that," she told him, trying to smile. "Come on now, let's finish up here.

He nodded. "I suppose we should." He sighed and looked around the grimy hallway. "It's funny – as much as he hated this place, leaving it still feels like an insult to his memory – like he's not really gone until we actually leave the house."

Molly felt a catch in her throat and an overpowering urge to hug the man to her chest like a child. "It never really feels like they're gone," she told him. "I still find myself setting extra places for Christmas dinner for my brothers, after all these years…" She paused and swallowed back the sob creeping up her throat.

Remus smiled sadly. "I fear every time I see a black dog I may expect it to stroll over and steal my wand."

"Steal your wand?"

Remus' eyes twinkled. "Padfoot's take on the classic game of fetch."

Molly found herself giggling. "I wish I had seen that. I'm afraid I was rather too stern with Sirius…he must have thought me such a fussy mother hen. Now I'll never get to apologize…" Tears popped up in her eyes.

"Don't do that," Remus told her. "Sirius knew you were just looking out for Harry. Even if you two disagreed on the method, he always respected where you were coming from. "

Molly sniffed and wiped her tears away. "I'm sorry dear. Let's finish up and I'll cook you a proper meal. You're far too thin."

Remus chuckled. "Thank you, Molly. I don't know where we'd be without you looking after us."

The comment, strangely enough, made her feel slightly better. She'd failed to do her part at the Battle of the Ministry, but now was no time to roll over and wallow in the bitter taste of her failure. Instead she would go home and keep fighting. She would not give in to grief the way she did when her brothers died. She could not save Fabian and Gideon, and she could not save Sirius Black. Brave young men are impossible to shelter, impossible to hold back. She knew this, but it did not make anything easier.

She could only hope the brave young men she raised made it out of this war alive. She must not fail again.


End file.
